


you can't trust anyone

by ScreechTheMighty



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Titanfall
Genre: Belligerent Friendship, Cooper gets a cameo based on some plot bunnies I've had, Crossover, Gen, Hank is also in this but barely, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Robert Barker Taube Deserves More Love Damn It, Some Swearing, but not a lot of swearing but still some swearing, please play Titanfall 2 I'm begging you, so does Titanfall 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-23 05:57:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15599829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScreechTheMighty/pseuds/ScreechTheMighty
Summary: Not really.Connor has a hard time finding Hank. He has to enlist the help of a friend of Hank's. It's possible that "friend" might be overstating things, but with humans it's hard to tell.Titanfall 2/DBH fusion because I've lost all control of my life and I realized that I love two (2) alcoholic misanthropic lieutenant dads with gruff voices and secret hearts of gold.





	you can't trust anyone

**Author's Note:**

> Barker and Hank are alike in too many ways so of _course_ I need to force them into being belligerent asshole friends. Though this is more about Barker and Connor hanging out. Maybe I'll write more Hank and Barker later? Who knows, with the way my life is going.

He was on his sixth bar of the night, a run-down establishment called Barker’s, and there was still no sign of Lieutenant Anderson.

Connor didn’t get impatient. Impatience wasn’t a part of his programming. But if, hypothetically, he did get impatient, he would be _very_ impatient right now.

“He hasn’t been here tonight at all?” The bartender glanced Connor’s way again and shook his head. His responses had so far been nonverbal, but he didn’t seem to be lying. “Do you know anyone who might know where he is?”

The bartender—Cooper, Jack, age 33, no criminal record—scanned the bar and pointed to a figure sitting in the corner. “Barker might. Don’t think he’s too drunk yet, either.”

“Thank you.”

_Barker._ Connor had perfect recall of every conversation he’d had with Lieutenant Anderson, and every officer who worked at the DPD. He didn’t recall anyone named _Barker_ coming up _._ Then again, there was plenty that he didn’t know about Lieutenant Anderson, things that weren’t relevant to his mission. Perhaps “Barker” was a friend of his, or an acquaintance whose bar he frequented. More importantly, he might know where Lieutenant Anderson was.

Connor put on his most polite smile as he approached the corner table.

**[ SCAN IN PROGRESS… COLLECTING DATA… PROCESSING DATA… SCAN COMPLETE. ]**

_Lt. Taube, Robert (US Navy, Ret.)_

_Born 12/08/1989 // Owner, Barker’s Bar_

_Criminal Record: Drunk and Disorderly Conduct._

“Barker” must have been a nickname, then. Connor amended his file on the man before speaking: “Are you Robert Taube?”

Taube looked up from his tablet. The drink in front of him _[vodka, no additives]_ seemed drained, but the man’s eyes were clear as they met Connor’s. Low levels of intoxication. Good, that would make this go faster. “Yeah?” he asked. His voice was rough, not as deep as Lieutenant Anderson’s but certainly indicative of a smoking habit. “Who’s asking?”

“My name is Connor. I’m the android sent by Cyberlife. I’ve been collaborating with Lieutenant Hank Anderson of the Detroit Police Department, and I need his assistance with a case. However, I haven’t been able to-”

“Hold on. _Hank?_ ”

“That’s right. I’ve been unable to locate him and I was told that you might know where he is.” Taube frowned, staring at Connor as though he’d had a difficult time hearing him. Connor spoke again, louder this time: “My name is-“

“I heard you the first time, kid.” Taube leaned forward on the table, staring at Connor’s LED intently. “You’re an android.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re working with Hank Anderson? Detective, old son of a bitch, tall, looks like the fucking Dude? _That_ Hank Anderson?”

“I don’t know who the Dude is,” Connor admitted, “but yes, that’s him. Have you seen him tonight?”

Taube stared for another second, then smiled. Then laughed, causing Connor’s LED to flash yellow. “I’m sorry,” Connor said, wondering if perhaps the man was more intoxicated than he’d originally thought. “Did I say something funny?”

“No, no, it’s…” Taube took a sip of his vodka and shook his head. “Is he pissed? I bet he’s pissed. Mother _fucker_. No, I haven’t seen him tonight. Did you check Jimmy’s?”

“Yes, and four other bars besides that. He wasn’t at any of them.”

“Well, shit.” The chair across the table from Taube moved backwards, scraping noisily across the floor as the former Lieutenant pushed it with his foot. “Here, sit down, I’ll try calling him.”

“I’ve already tried,” Connor said. He sat down, because it was the polite response, but he didn’t see how this would help him find Lieutenant Anderson. He didn’t seem to answer his phone…ever, really. “I’ve tried every number listed in his police file.”

“Can’t hurt to try.” Taube produced an older-model cell phone from his pocket and started tapping at the screen. “He might be ignoring your calls. He probably is ignoring your calls. Petty fuck.”

Connor was starting to question the nature of this man’s relationship to Lieutenant Anderson.

Taube’s first call went unanswered. He tried another number. “So, RK800?” he said as the phone rang. “Is that a new model?”

“Yes. I’m a prototype.”

“Huh, prototype. One of a kind. Not bad.” Taube straightened up. “There you are, you bastard. I thought for a second you might’ve  drunk yourself into another coma.”

He pulled the phone away from his ear and turned it to speaker, just in time for Connor to hear the end of the sentence clearly. “- _know why you care, asshole. What do you want?_ ”

“I don’t want anything. Your android is at the bar. He’s looking for you.”

The line went quiet, save for muffled cursing. “ _Yeah, well, tell him to fuck off,_ ” Lieutenant Anderson said.

“You can tell him yourself. You’re on speaker.”

“ _Jesus, **really?**_ ”

“Hello, Lieutenant,” Connor said, leaning closer to the phone so Lieutenant Anderson could hear. “I received a call half an hour ago concerning-”

The line went dead.

“…yeah, that’s what I thought.” Taube tossed the phone onto the table. “Fucking hell. What were they thinking, assigning you to him?”

“I’m not sure.” Connor replayed the phone call mentally. It was simple enough to listen past Hank’s voice and focus on background noise. There was no sound of glasses, no conversations in the background-- _probably not at another bar._ There _was_ the sound of wind, leaves rustling, something metallic squeaking— _Hank is outside?_ “Do you know anywhere he might go if he wasn’t at a bar? Specifically someplace outside?”

Taube hesitated, then grimaced. “Shit…yeah, I know a place.” With a heavy sigh, he lifted the glass and drained it. Vodka was, as far as Connor understood, a fairly strong drink, but Taube didn’t seem negatively affected by the taste. “Well, c’mon. My car’s parked around back.”

Connor frowned. “I am perfectly capable of getting a cab. You don’t have to…”

“Trust me, you’re gonna want backup if he is where I think he is. Besides, it’ll save you the money.” He grabbed a jacket from off the back of his chair and the tablet. “Hey, Coop, hold things down for me, will you? I’ll be back in a few.”

“Sure thing. Hey, are you sure you’re--?”

“Hey, now, I’m _that_ stupid. Or drunk. Don’t worry about it.” Taube walked with a limp, Connor noticed—nothing a human might notice, and it didn’t seem to impede him in any way, but there was a distinctive stutter to his gait as he headed to the door. He stopped to hold it open for Connor, which was unexpected. “And tell Davis if he doesn’t pay his fucking tab, we’re gonna have _words_.”

Outside, it had started to rain. Taube swore quietly and started walking faster. Connor kept up easily. “Your bartender doesn’t talk much,” he said, trying to make small talk. It would put the human at ease, which would help with social interactions for as long as they were together. He ran through the information he’d gathered about the bartender again.

_LCpl. Cooper, Jack (US Marines, ret.)_

_Born 10/06/2005 // Occupation: Bartender._

_Criminal record: None._

“You’re both registered as having been in the armed forces. Did you know him from then?”

“We’re both registered…” Taube glanced back at Connor with an alarmed look. “What, can you just access information about me?”

“Only the things you would find in a police database. Your military service is a matter of public record, as is his.”

“Ah.” That didn’t make Taube look any less suspicious, but he seemed to accept the answer. “Nah. He was after my time. He knows a friend of a friend of a friend and they pointed him to me for a job after he got discharged.” As Taube said, his car was parked out back. It was a newer model than Hank’s car, but still several years old. The interior was fairly clean, aside from some books that had to be moved out of the passenger’s side before Connor could be seated. “Hard enough getting a job in this fucking economy, try being disabled vet on top of that. _Respect the troops_ my fucking ass.” He glanced Connor’s way as he started the car. “Not your fault, I know.”

It was an interesting statement, and one Connor filed away along with the fact that Taube had held the door for him. There hadn’t been a _No Androids Allowed_ sign on the bar, either. _Robert Taube has a favorable opinion of androids?_  “I understand. He’s disabled?”

“Yeah, lost a leg doing the country’s dirty work. His prosthetic’s pretty good, but we’re not as modular as you people are.”

Connor ran through a series of potential responses, weighing them against what little he knew about Taube, before settling on _humor._ “That seems like a design flaw if you ask me,” he said.

Taube laughed; he sounded startled, maybe impressed. “Yeah, we’ve got pretty fucked up builds. Hank been giving you a hard time?”

He settled on the diplomatic answer this time: “I get the impression Lieutenant Anderson gives everyone a hard time.” Taube snorted quietly. “How do you know him?”

“He drinks at my bar and neither one of us like people. We talk sometimes.” _Neither one of us likes people_ seemed an interesting thing to say when he had spoken about Jack Cooper with what registered to Connor as _fondness_. But then, humans were in the habit of using hyperbole when it wasn’t needed. “He’s an asshole, but it’s always useful to know a cop. Fucking _hell,_ this weather.”

Taube was a more careful driver than Hank; his stops weren’t so abrupt, and he only averaged 2 mph above the speed limit to Hank’s 5 mph. “Where do you think he is?” Connor asked.

“There’s this park he goes to sometimes. If he’s not there, he might be walking home, so keep an eye out.” They eased to a stop at a red light. “Whatever it is you need him for, I’m not sure he’ll be good for it until tomorrow.”

“This can’t wait until tomorrow.”

“Let me guess, need to know investigative shit?”

“Correct.”

“Hmm.”

He was silent after that, but it wasn’t the same silence Connor had experienced while driving with Hank. Taube didn’t seem so tense in Connor’s presence; if he was quiet, it seemed to be because he was focused on the road and not on conversation. This changed as the taller buildings of Detroit gave way to a more suburban area. “What made you look for him at my place?” Taube asked.

Connor noted suspicion in the man’s voice. “I was checking every bar within a certain radius of the station,” he explained, “starting with the ones I know he favors and working my way from there. You were within a two mile radius of the station.”

“Oh.” Taube stopped at a stop sign, but didn’t move after the recommended three seconds wait time to ensure he had the right of way. “So, Cyberlife has their own police force now, huh?”

His tone was still distrustful. The distrust seemed to be pointed to Cyberlife, not Connor. _Robert Taube dislikes Cyberlife…but Robert Taube as a favorable opinion of androids?_ That didn’t seem right. “As you said earlier, I’m one of a kind,” Connor said, trying for a placating option. “Hardly a police force. And Cyberlife’s intelligence is important to the cases we’re working.”

“The need to know cases.”

“Correct.”

Taube grunted quietly and finally pulled forward. “Anything I should be worried about?”

That depended on if Taube owned any androids. A quick check of Cyberlife’s databases didn’t show any androids registered to Robert Taube, or Barker’s as an establishment. “No,” Connor said. “Nothing you should be worried about.”

Taube didn’t look like he believed him. It was a subtle distrust, more so than Lieutenant Anderson’s open disdain, but noticeable. “Well,” he said finally, “look after Hank, would you? He’s a son of a bitch, but some of us like having him around.”

_Robert Taube’s previous comment about not liking people is definitely exaggeration_. Noted.

“I’ll do my best.” His mission might have come first, but he did need Lieutenant Anderson to accomplish his mission. Connor might admit to finding the detective interesting, except he wasn’t supposed to find people interesting. “Are we close?”

“Shouldn’t be too far.” Taube fell silent again, then spoke abruptly: “Hey, can you help me settle a bet? Do you people _eat?_ ”

“What?”

“Androids. Can you eat human food?”

Connor shook his head. “No, we can’t eat human food. We can intake replacement thorium orally in a liquid or gelatinous form, but we cannot process human food.”

“ _Knew_ it. That fucker owes me.”

“Who, Lieutenant Anderson?”

“No, someone else I know.”

Connor knew that he probably shouldn’t say anything. But he couldn’t help making an observation: “You seem to have a lot of acquaintances for someone who doesn’t like people.”

Taube laughed. “Bold of you to assume I actually like any of them.” It felt like a lie, and a weak one at that. Maybe it was more exaggeration for the sake of comedy. “That’s his car, right?”

Connor looked in the direction Taube had indicated. There was a park off in the distance; the vehicle parked outside its gates was, as Taube’s said, the Lieutenant’s car. “It is.” Taube parked alongside the car, giving Connor a better view of the park. He could see an umbrella propped against a bench, hiding whoever was on the other side. It could only be Lieutenant Anderson, though.

“Hey, let me talk to him first,” Taube said as Connor went for the door. “Soften him up for you, yeah?”

Connor didn’t want to waste any more time. He’d already spent so much time searching. But Lieutenant Anderson had already hung up on him, and clearly didn’t want to be found. Connor didn’t want to push his luck and risk Lieutenant Anderson refusing to come at all. “I’ll wait here,” Connor said.

Hopefully this wouldn’t take long.

Taube got out of the car and walked to Lieutenant Anderson. His shoulders were hunched against the rain and the wind. Connor heard him yell Lieutenant Anderson’s name as he approached, but the conversation became muffled after that. He could’ve eavesdropped—he certainly had the capability to—but he didn’t want to risk angering any of the involved parties. So he sat, he kept his hearing within standard parameters, and he watched the two men speak.

Taube’s body language was relaxed, more or less, though he kept his distance from Lieutenant Anderson. The Lieutenant was less relaxed; as he stood and turned, giving Connor a view of his profile, he noticed how tense the Lieutenant’s shoulders were, how he gripped the umbrella handle. Taube gestured towards the car; when the Lieutenant turned to glare, Connor lifted a hand in greeting, unsure if the Lieutenant could see him or not.

If he could see Connor, he didn’t return the wave; he chose instead to turn around, blocking Connor’s view of him and Taube with the umbrella. What happened from there was unclear. The conversation lasted approximately two minutes; when Hank turned around and started walking back towards the cars, he still looked tense, but resigned. “…a bastard is what you are,” he growled to Taube as he approached. “All right, where’s the fucking crime scene?”

Connor couldn’t help smiling as he got out of the car. “It’s not far. They should be waiting for us.”

Hank grumbled and got into the driver’s seat. He seemed reasonably sober, at least. Connor stopped on his way to Hank’s car and turned to face Taube. “Thank you for your help.”

Taube waved him off. “’s nothing. Have fun at your crime scene with your need to know bulshit.” He didn’t immediately get into his own car; he stopped at the driver’s window of Hank’s car and rapped on the window. “ _Don’t dismantle the android_.”

Hank flipped him off.

Connor watched Taube drive away first before Hank pulled out. On an impulse, one he couldn’t quite explain but wasn’t fully comfortable with, he said, “Your friend seems nice.”

Hank laughed bitterly. “He’s not my friend,” he said. “Can we just get this shit over with?”

There were a few human relationships that Connor didn’t fully understand. Friendship, it seemed, was more complicated than Connor had given it credit for. Because despite Anderson’s words, and Taube’s protestations, he couldn’t think of any reason would Taube would help unless there was some kind of connection.

And he _definitely_ couldn’t think of any reason why Taube would ask him to look after the Lieutenant if they weren’t friends.

It seemed more trouble than it was worth, Connor decided. He was lucky it wasn’t something he had to worry about.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked the fic, please consider playing Titanfall 2. It's a great game, you get a friend-shaped robot buddy, and listen...listen there's five people and a shoe in the Titanfall fandom and I'm suffering. I need more fic. Help me. Help yourself. Liam O'Brien and Matt Mercer do voice work for it, if that helps.
> 
> Also I'm on tumblr at screechthemighty, though my DBH sideblog is dbh-shameblogging. Yes, I have a sideblog for my DBH content. I openly admit I'm a Coward.


End file.
